


With Blood and Rage (This is Your Fate)

by LostandLonelyBirds (RUNNFROMTHEAK), memecatwings



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Under the Red Hood, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bruce Wayne is kind of a dick, Dick is an absolute treasure, Did I say angst?, Gen, I meant ANGST, Jason Todd is emo and dead, Poor Alfred, and cruel, and hurts my feels, bc canon is mean, duh - Freeform, hi, just so we clear, plot has to plot, so we hurt feels, which is sad but ya know, who loves his family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 04:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RUNNFROMTHEAK/pseuds/LostandLonelyBirds, https://archiveofourown.org/users/memecatwings/pseuds/memecatwings
Summary: Where Jason dies, Dick drowns in guilt, and Bruce is just the worst.





	With Blood and Rage (This is Your Fate)

He was too late, he could feel it in his bones ( _in the air, in the sounds, in the silence_ ) even as he scrambles to dismount from his bike.

Nightwing sees the explosion before he hears it; the sonic boom generated by the warehouse’s destruction knocking him on his ass.

Even as he stands, his ears are still ringing. It echoes off into the distance ( _the sound of his failing, of his incompetence_ ), leaving a tense silence as the shockwaves settle.

The stench of gasoline and burning flesh greet him-

( _invading, filling, overtaking_ )

-making his already constricting heart throb painfully. His right arm twitches, fingers clenching and unclenching around his escrima sticks in a steady, calming rhythm.

His breathes come out harsh and panicked, dread seeping into his bones as he looks at the scene in front of him.

Nightwing knows what awaits him,

_“Little Wing you need to be more careful.”_  
  


_He’s worried, pacing in front of the medical bed Alfred had Jason in for the next 24 hours._

_Jason rolls his eyes at Dick’s overprotectiveness, stretching his arms high above his head and only slightly wincing from his cracked ribs._

_“You worry too much Dickiebird. I’m not getting blown up any time soon.”_  
  


_Dick stops, meeting Jason’s eyes with a slight glare reminiscent of their mentor._

_“Be serious, the Joker isn’t someone to mess around with.” Jason flashes him a toothy grin, slightly bloodied, eyes glinting with something Dick can’t quite decipher._

_“I’ll be careful. I promise.”_

_Dick looks at his brother, something close to fear curling in his stomach, and wonders if he’ll actually keep the promise._

He knows before lifting the bent aluminum remnants,

_He’s worried, pacing in front of the medical bed…_

He knows before sifting through the bloodied dirt, trailing to the far edge of the ruin in front of him,

“ _Be serious, the Joker isn’t someone to mess around with_.”

He knows as the metallic scent of blood joins the gasoline fumes rich in the air, tasting the heady flavor on his tongue,

_Jason flashes him a toothy grin, slightly bloodied, eyes glinting with something he can’t decipher._

_“I’ll be careful. I promise.”_

He knows as he sees the cape, stained with blood, barely concealed amongst the dirt and concrete pillars riddled with cracks-

( _and it’s Jay’s cape, that was his cape, a cape he’d designed, handed down, bled in, fought in_ )

-Nightwing doesn’t want to look under the concrete, afraid of finality, of what he knows he’ll find.

And suddenly he’s eight years old again watching as his parents fall from the trapeze. The same dread, and certainty of death hovering around him. They weren’t dead until he looked down, even as the sound of screams and crunch of bones overtook the previous laughter.  


He spins, head swimming, unwilling to look down at the concrete tombstone. Desecration surrounds him - every inch of the warehouse effected - and despite seeing the worst of Gotham every day, hell, having worse _done to him_ daily, he feels rattled ( _empty, numb, hollow, afraid_ ).

As he lifts the slab - _heavy, unyielding, cold_ \- he is eight years old, looking over the edge of the platform, heart heavy.

As he sees his little brother’s corpse – _lifeless, unmoving, cold_ \- he is eight years old, staring at his family’s broken bodies leaking precious life into the popcorn-covered ground.

As he cradles his brother, blood seeping into his uniform, and begins to shake- _empty, dead, cold, lifeless_ \- he is eight years old, and he’s screaming for his family.

**Author's Note:**

> yeehaw. This was memecatwings' idea that I helped blossom into this. You're welcome for the tears! No tissue box included with reading! :)


End file.
